Chapter 47: Fist on the Table
On Yiru Street, Chu Yu first distributed five days’ wages to the girls at Tianxiang Pavilion.
“Paid according to market rates, but from His Majesty’s private treasury—no money came from the state treasury. The emperor has high hopes for all of you.”
The girls laughed at his words, giggling in a group.
Then Chu Yu invited two senior attendants over and said, “These are the old attendants from the Empress Dowager’s side. Sisters, if there’s anything you don’t understand, feel free to ask them.”
The girls bowed respectfully, then, with swaying waists, escorted the two elderly attendants back to Tianxiang Pavilion.
After seeing them off, Chu Yu breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to look at the Songzhu Pavilion across the street.
He instructed his accompanying guards: “Go, summon the people from Songzhu Pavilion as well.”
In a carriage at the street corner, Han Min leaned against the window. Before long, he saw the young gentlemen from Songzhu Pavilion also coming out.
He turned to Fu Xun: “Are they going for labor reform too?”
Fu Xun nodded. Han Min propped his head up, continuing to watch the scene.
The young gentleman in white from last night also came out carrying a zither. Their eyes met for a moment, and he smiled warmly at Han Min.
Han Min was surprised he remembered him and waved back with a smile.
Seeing this, Fu Xun sat down beside him, slightly displeased: “What’s so interesting? Let me see too.”
Han Min tugged at his sleeve, pulling it back hard: “What are you doing?”
Fu Xun grabbed his hand with a frown, casting a cold glare at the opposite side.
The young gentleman in white stopped looking their way and turned back to listen to Chu Yu.
Chu Yu cleared his throat: “Brothers, the emperor understands that performing isn’t easy, especially at night playing the zither. So he has arranged new work for you.”
He gestured, and several large bamboo baskets were brought over.
The baskets contained brown fibers and bamboo leaves.
“Summer is coming, the rainy season will arrive soon, and the southern garrison’s work is not easy. You are requested to weave straw raincoats and conical hats. Payment at market rates, just like Tianxiang Pavilion. Those who do well will be rewarded with a family registry and some silver.”
Two elderly craftsmen carrying wooden boxes stepped forward.
“These are craftsmen from the Ministry of Works. If you have questions, ask freely.”
Finally, Chu Yu looked at them all: “May I ask, who can play the zither?”
The young gentleman in white holding a zither looked around and stepped forward.
Chu Yu said, “We happen to be short of a cotton fluffer, so please come with me.”
The young gentleman in white was slightly taken aback, glancing toward the carriage at the street corner.
Fu Xun lowered the carriage curtain, blocking Han Min on his side, and instructed the driver to leave.
As the carriage moved, Han Min frowned: “Playing the zither and fluffing cotton… that’s the same?”
Fu Xun said nothing.
Perhaps it was the same—he just wanted him to go fluff some cotton, regardless of whether it was the same.
Han Min continued: “This labor reform method… isn’t bad.”
“You suggested it.”
“Ah?”
“When we studied in the academy, you suggested it.”
So, he was complimenting himself.
Fu Xun added: “This matter still requires long-term planning. Think of any good methods.”
Han Min nodded: “Mm.”
He didn’t dare say that without increasing productivity and changing feudal production relations, any amount of labor reform would only be a temporary measure.
—
After handling the deeds for the house resale at the local office and returning to the palace, it was already noon.
Along the way, Li Shu got off to return to Duke of Xin’s residence.
The carriage now had only Fu Xun and Han Min.
Han Min looked at the two contracts in his hand repeatedly, smiling foolishly.
Fu Xun couldn’t help but laugh at his silly expression.
He asked: “Some parts of the house need repairs. Where do you plan to find craftsmen?”
Han Min thought for a moment: “I used all my money to buy the house. To repair it, I’ll save some more.”
He was serious.
Last night, he said he would give all his money to Fu Xun. Fu Xun thought he was speaking casually, but the 800 taels really were all his money.
“You’re out of money?”
“No.”
Han Min carefully folded the contracts and tucked them into his chest, treating it as nothing.
After all, he lived and ate in the palace or the Liu residence, with little extra expenditure. Once The Emperor and the Third-Rank Scholar: Vol. 1 was printed, he’d have money.
Though not much, if he quickly wrote two more volumes, he could repair the house in time.
Fu Xun looked at him and said: “The Ministry of Works will be idle in spring. Let them send people to repair it.”
Han Min considered: that seemed feasible, but one question remained, “What about the payment?”
Fu Xun replied helplessly: “Paid at market rate, deducted from your stipend.”
“Fine.” Han Min smiled: “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Have them finish by the end of May.”
Han Min waved: “No rush. I’ll bring my grandfather and the others back in autumn, when the weather is better.”
“Autumn?” Fu Xun frowned. “Your birthday is in June.”
Han Min shrugged: “Yes, so what?”
“Will your coming-of-age ceremony be delayed to autumn?”
“No, my teacher will perform it for me.”
“Your grandfather won’t come?”
“Grandfather is old. Traveling in haste might be inconvenient. Better in autumn.”
Fu Xun asked: “Will you be sad?”
Han Min was slightly stunned, then replied thoughtfully: “Just a little.”
Since childhood, his grandfather had taught him. Now, at his coming-to-age ceremony, no family member was nearby. Of course, he would feel sad—but he was used to putting his own feelings last.
He smiled: “It’s okay. We’ve been together for over ten years; we’ll be together in the future too…”
Fu Xun interrupted: “Can they travel by water?”
Han Min hesitated, then quietly said: “I’ll write to ask their opinion.”
“Good.”
Han Min’s almond-shaped eyes were bright, looking at Fu Xun curiously. He didn’t understand why Fu Xun treated him so well.
Fu Xun remained open and straightforward, letting him observe.
Liking someone means being good to them—no need for a reason.
The carriage arrived at Funing Palace. The wheels no longer rolled, and the cabin was strangely quiet.
Han Min prepared to thank him, but the system suddenly shouted:
“Han Min, get off!”
Startled, Han Min forgot his words. Gathering himself, he said politely: “Thank you, Your Majesty. I will devote myself fully…”
Some formal words. Fu Xun glanced at him and got out of the carriage.
Han Min followed. At the same time, Chu Yu, having completed some errands, returned.
Today was his duty day, but Han Min hadn’t finished recording yesterday’s daily notes.
Chu Yu elbowed him and gestured. Han Min then bowed and took his leave, heading to the Wenying Hall.
The Emperor was accompanied by the Chu Yu. The Emperor flicked his sleeve, looking rather displeased.
—
Han Min walked with his sleeves gathered, alone, and called: “System, come out!”
The system, annoyed, snapped: “What?”
“I want to ask you something. Why did you scare me just now?”
“Reminding you to get off at the carriage. You and Fu Xun always sit there. What were you planning?”
“He helped me a lot. I wanted to thank him, but you scared me so I couldn’t speak properly.”
“You can thank him anytime. No rush.”
Both were still annoyed, so silence followed.
Back at Wenying Hall, Han Min retrieved yesterday’s draft and new paper to copy his notes.
After two pages, he gently asked: “System, did something happen to you?”
The system hurriedly denied: “Nothing! I didn’t see anything!”
“Tsk, the more you cover it, the more obvious it is.”
“Nothing. Anyway, don’t be alone with Fu Xun recently.”
Han Min frowned: “What happened? What’s wrong with Fu Xun? Teasing me like this—is that fun?”
The system paused, then mysteriously said: “I think Fu Xun might be a silly dog.”
Han Min was confused: “What are you talking about?”
“He might carry the gene for biting people.”
“Ha?”
“You wouldn’t understand. I’ve messaged the control center. Once they reply, I’ll tell you. Don’t be alone with Fu Xun.”
Han Min couldn’t understand. He looked at his arm—he hadn’t been bitten.
“System, do you need maintenance? Are you broken?”
“No, focus on writing your daily notes.”
With no other answer, Han Min resumed writing.
Unbeknownst to him, the system floated nearby, gazing lovingly. Yesterday Han Min hadn’t called him, so he stayed idle.
After seeing Han Min’s encounter with Fu Xun, the system was furious. That scoundrel dared to secretly kiss its host under its watchful eyes.
The poor host has no idea that he was kissed while drunk.
If it weren’t for the fact that the system had no physical form and there were no animals nearby for him to possess, he would have rushed up and kicked Fu Xun in the face. In the end, all it could do was watch as fire shot from its eyes.
It recalled the previous spoiler from the control center: Fu Xun’s empress is male. Han Min had joked about sleeping in the dragon bed.
Han Min was obviously joking, and the system didn’t take it seriously either.
The system then realized what was happening and cursed. It seemed Han Min really was Fu Xun’s male empress.
But then, after he came to his senses and thought about it more carefully, something seemed a little off.
He suddenly realized that since Fu Xun would have a male empress, it was hard to guarantee that he wouldn’t have a male imperial concubine. Who knew where he would place Han Min?
So the system sent a message to the control center overnight, asking them who the male empress was and whether Fu Xun, that scoundrel, had a harem.
If he had a harem—
Hmph, don’t even think about it.
Therefore, before the control center gives him an accurate reply, we must not give Fu Xun any further opportunity to take advantage of it’s host.
Han Min was someone he had watched grow up. He was quite smart, but he didn’t pay much attention to these things. His system had to take on the primary responsibility of protecting its host.
After thinking for a moment, the system finally entered the eight characters “How to overthrow feudal rule” into its own database.
—
After tidying up yesterday’s daily records, Han Min put down his pen and stretched his arms.
Just then, Chu Yu returned and leaned over to take a look: “Finished writing?”
“Um.”
Chu Yu walked to the bookshelf and pulled out two sheets of paper: “These are from yesterday afternoon, let’s put them together.”
After collecting a month’s notes, they could be bound. Han Min flipped through and noticed one entry:
First hour of the Hai (9:00 P.M – 11:00 P.M), Daily Note: Lord Han got drunk, stayed overnight at Funing Palace.
Han Min twitched: “Zuoshi, this one…”
Chu Yu patted his back: “I recorded it truthfully.”
“No… it reads too strangely. Can we add ‘Deep affection between ruler and subject’?”
“I’m too lazy to change it. Pay attention next time.”
Chu Yu took the sheets, placed them on the desk, and helped Han Min stand.
“Let’s go, leaving the palace.”
Han Min followed quietly.
On Chu Yu’s carriage back, he flopped on the soft cushion, eating snacks.
“Being a record officer is tiring.”
Han Min: “I think it’s fine.”
“You’re not showing off, right? You can sleep, find someone to cover your duty. I have to teach writing and supervise labor reform. Are we the same officer?”
Han Min: “Because you’re here to train, and you’re only the daily record officer for one year, you do more.”
Chu Yu, frowning but smiling, relaxed slightly. Han Min tugged his sleeve: “Next time your shift, I’ll cover. Don’t be mad.”
Chu Yu loosened up and said: “No need. Tomorrow’s a day off—shall we go out?”
“Tomorrow’s not good.”
He hadn’t yet properly thanked Mr. Ge for the house purchase, planning a meal tomorrow.
Chu Yu released his arm, scrutinizing him: “Han Min, do you have another scholar outside?”
“No, I really have things to do. Go find Wen Bianzhang.”
“Really?” Chu Yu suspiciously watched him.
To reassure him, Han Min raised his hand in oath: “I really don’t have other scholar outside.”
Satisfied, Chu Yu mumbled: “Fine, I’ll reluctantly trust you once.”
The carriage arrived at the Liu residence. Han Min got out. Chu Yu waved goodbye from inside.
—
The next morning, Han Min washed and went to Baishi Bookstore.
It was early, but the teahouses and restaurants outside were crowded, and people filled the bookstore’s exterior.
Han Min, wearing a straw hat, squeezed to the front.
A familiar assistant greeted him: “Young master, this way.”
The backyard was less crowded.
Han Min asked: “Why so many people?”
“Thanks to you,” the assistant smiled. “At noon, the latest volume of Pine Smoke Ink Guest is released. Everyone’s here to buy.”
Han Min glanced back; the street was packed.
He was astonished and nibbled his fingers.
The assistant: “We’re used to it. Our boss does the accounting every night, and he’s happiest during these first few days of the month.”
The assistant led him to Mr. Ge’s door and then left.
Han Min knocked on the door, and someone inside responded, but it didn’t sound like Mr. Ge’s voice.
He pushed the door open and went in, then looked closely and exclaimed, “You’re here too!”
Xie Yan, or Xie Dingyuan, sat inside and nodded to him: “Mr. Ge went to get his things, please come in.”
Han Min: “Alright.”
Xie Yan poured tea: “Sit.”
Han Min sipped: “Did your revised manuscript pass?”
“Yes, Mr. Ge went to collect my payment.”
“Good.”
After a pause, Xie Yan: “Thanks for lending me money last time.”
“No problem.”
Just then, Mr. Ge returned, “Little Xie, not much money, but you write well… Oh, Han Min is here. House matters done?”
Han Min turned around: “Everything is taken care of. I came here today specifically to invite you to have a drink, sir.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Mr. Ge sat down at the desk and handed a bag of silver to Xie Yan: “Count it quickly and start the next book.”
Xie Yan shook out the coins onto the desk, not counting, handing a handful to Han Min.
“Here’s your money back, thank you.”
Han Min checked the amount, looked at Mr. Ge: “Isn’t this too much?”
Now they understood why Xie Yan was poor—he grabbed coins randomly, yet managed to dress well.
Han Min suggested: “Shall we use this money for lunch? Zui Xian Ju?”
—
Zui Xian Ju, the most popular restaurant in Yong’an City, was near Baishi Bookstore.
Its poetic dish names and a wall for scholars to write poems attracted many. During the triennial imperial exams, candidates often gathered here.
Once, on Grandpa Han’s birthday, some old friends treated him to a meal here. Han Min followed behind his grandfather and got a lot of food.
Near noon, the three exited from the back of the bookstore.
Mr. Ge: “Everyone outside is here to buy Pine Smoke Ink Guest’s storybooks; the only way out is through the back door.”
Han Min smiled and waved his hand, “I’m ashamed, I’m ashamed.”
At the main entrance of Baishi Bookstore, Chu Yu pushed Wen Yan’s wheelchair past.
Wen Yan’s leg hasn’t fully healed yet.
Seeing the scene in front of the bookstore, Chu Yu clapped his hands and exclaimed in realization, “I almost forgot, Pine Smoke Ink Guest’s new storybook came out today.”
He entrusted a servant to watch Wen Yan and pushed through the crowd.
“One copy for me!”
Wen Yan, holding a pile of medicinal herbs for nourishing the body, sat in his wheelchair and silently watched him try to squeeze in.
Soon Chu Yu returned with the volume, but his joy faded after seeing the cover.
Wen Yan asked, “What book is it?”
Chu Yu shook his head repeatedly, “No, no, no, it’s not a good book.”
Changing the topic: “Are you hungry? Let’s eat.”
Chu Yu pushed the wheelchair to Zui Xian Ju.
—
The assistant: “How many guests? First or second floor?”
“Two. Let’s go upstairs. Window seat, nice view.”
Wen Yan hesitated: “Not convenient…”
Assistant: “I’ll carry you up.”
Wen Yan tried to refuse, but Chu Yu said: “You’re clumsy. I’ll carry my precious scholar. You push the wheelchair.”
He bent down, scooped Wen Yan, and carried him up.
Wen Yan, startled, said: “You…”
Chu Yu: “Be careful of your leg, or you’ll need months more recovery.”
The restaurant faced a river flowing to Yuanyang Lake.
Han Min, Xie Yan, and Mr. Ge sat by the window, facing the stairs.
Chu Yu looked up and saw them, freezing.
Wen Yan noticed Han Min and whispered to Chu Yu: “Put me down.”
Han Min turned around and saw them. He smiled and reached out his hand to greet them, but suddenly noticed that Chu Yu’s expression was a little strange.
Xie Yan, sitting next to him, frowned imperceptibly.
Mr. Ge, who was completely unaware of the situation, looked puzzled.
Chu Yu placed Wen Yan down, then glared at Han Min.
Chu Yu did as instructed, put Wen Yan down, and then rushed to Han Min.
Han Min turned around and glanced at Xie Yan.
Chu Yu once said that Xie Dingyuan used to be his study companion.
Seeing Chu Yu’s reaction now, it’s clear he knows Xie Yan. It seems Xie Yan is Xie Dingyuan.
He shook Han Min: “You said you weren’t with other scholars outside. I invite you out, you don’t come, but today you go out with others.”
Han Min tried to explain: “Not what you think…”
“I won’t listen! I won’t listen!”
At this moment, Wen Yan wheeled himself forward and tapped Chu Yu’s waist with his cane: “Please sit down.”
Chu Yu immediately quieted down, angrily sat down next to Mr. Ge, his eyes burning with rage as he stared at Han Min without saying a word.
Wen Yan sat beside Han Min.
Wen Yan: “You haven’t visited me for a long time.”
“I’ve been a bit busy lately,” Han Min said weakly. “I was planning to bring you pig’s trotter soup next time I take a vacation.”
The five had a table, adding two dishes.
After all the dishes were served, no one spoke. Compared to the other tables where everyone was chatting and laughing, the atmosphere was extremely awkward.
Chu Yu, still angry, glared at Han Min after every bite.
Having no choice but to back down, Han Min, holding up his sleeve, picked up a shrimp for him: “Don’t be angry.”
Chu Yu grunted, added it to Wen Yan’s bowl, calling: “A Yan.”
Xie Yan looked up.
Chu Yu laughed, giving the shrimp to Wen Yan, saying: “Calling my new friend, not you.”
Wen Yan ignored him.
Han Min sighed in relief.
He observed the situation carefully. Chu Yu and Xie Yan knew each other—Xie Yan was Xie Dingyuan, Chu Yu’s former companion student, a sixteen-year-old top scholar.
After parting, Chu Yu didn’t even acknowledge him now.
Old and new friends’ names coincidentally the same: A Yan and A Yan.
Hence Chu Yu’s call confused Xie Yan.
Han Min realized this, thrilled—it was perfect material for a story: “The Neighboring Country’s Top Scholar, the Censor, and the Third-Rank Scholar.”
On the other end, Xie Yan withdrew his gaze without changing his expression and lowered his head to eat his food.
Halfway through the meal, their table fell into an unusual silence when suddenly a commotion arose outside, growing louder as it approached.
Strangely enough, the diners on the second floor of Zui Xian Ju all put down their bowls and chopsticks and looked out the window.
There was a man who seemed to be drunk, with red eyes and acting crazy. He was banging a gong in the street, walking unsteadily, and almost fell into the river several times.
The reason was still unknown, but many people were afraid that something would happen to him, so they followed him.
The man banged the gong and roared, “You little rascal, Songyan Moke, I knew you were watching!”
Han Min, who was suddenly called out, could not even hold his chopsticks properly. He put down his chopsticks, and with trembling hands, picked up his teacup.
The man fired off a series of questions, accusing him: “What’s wrong with our Censor? Why did you rewrite the story of the third-ranked scholar? What makes the third-ranked scholar compare to our Censor? Tell me, what exactly is wrong with our Censor?”
He squatted down on the spot, cupped his face, wiped away the hot tears from the corners of his eyes, and sobbed, “You heartless Emperor, how cruel you are! Don’t you want the Censor anymore?”
It is deeply moving to see a grown man shed tears for love.
But the more he said, the more outrageous it became, so the others quickly covered his mouth, took him aside, and tried to reason with him.
Han Min held his tea cup, trembling.
Wen Yan asked: “What book? What Censor? You know?”
Chu Yu threw the newly bought volume on the table: “This one.”
The Emperor and the Third-Rank Scholar, Vol. 1
He explained: “Written by Pine Smoke Ink Guest. The first four volumes were about the Emperor and the Censor. Today’s is about the Third-Rank Scholar. Those who like the Censor are upset.”
Chu Yu whispered: “Actually, the first four were good. Following the Third-Rank Scholar… feels strange.”
Wen Yan flipped it. Not The Emperor and the Censor, but one could imagine.
He slammed the book down: “Ridiculous!”
Han Min sipped his nonexistent tea, trembling.
Seeing his predicament, Mr. Ge was about to help him out when Han Min slammed down his teacup.
Han Min severely criticized Pine Smoke Ink Guest’s inappropriate behavior: “This person is really—”
He pursed his lips tightly, clenched his fist and slammed it on the table, speaking righteously and sternly: “What a little rascal.”
Author’s Note:
A seemingly compassionate expression: (Image of someone pounding their fist on the table)
Compassionate Heart: The famous painting “The Scream” (jpg).
Furthermore, System can rest assured that Old Fu has no harem. He only acts childish towards Min-Min (and only Min-Min can tolerate his childish behavior; even his own mother once wanted to disown him).
Overprotective system is the best!;;